


Dog Training

by WatUCWatIC



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, As you do, At the same time, Barf and Belch the cats, But it's handled sarcastically, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hookfang the Doberman, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know cat breeds, Meatlug the Pit Bull, No dragons, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stormfly the Parrot, Teen Angst, Toothless the..., incoming, phantom pains, stoick is overprotective and distant, the hard part is relearning to run, they will be sorely missed, walking is easy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23981539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatUCWatIC/pseuds/WatUCWatIC
Summary: It's not everyday you wake up with a leg missing, but it sure is for Hiccup. It wasn't always, but don't expect much whining from him. A teenager can be surprisingly conforming to sudden leg loss...or maybe not.Dragons don't exist, but wolves sure do. Hiccup should know, one bit his leg off.
Relationships: Hiccup & Gobber, Hiccup & Stoick, Hiccup & Toothless, Hiccup/Astrid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. Peg Leg!

**Author's Note:**

> What, no-already?

It's not everyday you wake up with a leg missing, but it sure is for Hiccup. It wasn't always, but don't expect much whining from him. A teenager can be surprisingly conforming to sudden leg loss.

It still hadn't been a month since the wolf gnawed at his left limb, but a successful surgery and daily therapy made for quick recovery. Hiccup searched it up, as one would. An amputated limb usually heals in one or two months.

Does it really heal? Hiccup thought sarcastically, putting on the prosthetic leg he'd been given since week one. Human legs don't grow back, so in the end no one can really heal from amputation. There's no recovery, not really. It's just a bunch of coping and human ingenuity and adjusting.

Hiccup may not whine, but no one said he couldn't complain.

He used to run track. According to his doctor, he may still. Prosthetic legs apparently make fast runners speedier. After proper recovery, of course. As of yet, Hiccup still felt his missing calf on a daily basis, a painful reminder of the wolf's bite. Common symptom of no-leg-syndrome. The reminder was unappreciated. At least normal walking was getting easier by the day.

Hiccup stood up and closed his eyes, feeling the carpeted floor with a single foot. He wiggled his toes. Good ol' toe wiggles. Logically, his left toes would have felt the same carpeted floor and not felt it any different than his right toes, but he has to wonder. What would this feel like, a little more to the left? Who knows, not him.

He takes a step forward, unwilling to stay bitter. Sadly, with his eyes closed and his left foot the way it was, he couldn't have known there was a sheet where his prosthetic had landed when he stood up. He dragged it along and pulled on the half made bed. A loud _thud_ later, he was on the ground entangled in it.

"Hiccup?" His dad called from downstairs. His voice was naturally loud, meant to be heard, so it never sounded like he raised it so much as he just said thing louder. It had the benefit of getting the school's attention during pep rallies, but he was terrible at whispering. "Alright up there?"

"Yeah, dad," Hiccup did have to raise his voice to be heard. "My sheets just fell!"

"Sounded a little heavy."

"Yep, well," Hiccup lowered his voice, pulling himself out of the killer blankets, "I was in them, so..."

It was a normal start to the now one-legged Hiccup's day. He should stop thinking about it.

* * *

The great thing about pants is that as much as the fact he can't feel his shoe bothers Hiccup, no one else knows it. There's no staring at the "peg leg" or asking how he lost it. At best, Snotlout switched from "useless" to "legless" and the twins ask how it felt to get his leg bitten off.

"Painful," Hiccup had answered and headed off to math. The twins had cheered at that. He has a feeling they're just a little envious.

There was no sympathy to be gained from Snot and the twins. Hiccup was somewhat grateful. He couldn't imagine Snotlout being kind to him, and he certainly didn't want something good to come out of his lost leg. Aside from Astrid, anyone else's opinion on the leg didn't matter.

Naturally, Astrid's opinion mattered to him. The unyielding crush he had on her was the only reason he'd joined track. Just because he was taken with the sport didn't mean Astrid wasn't still on the back of his mind every day they had practice.

There was nothing left to do after school now. He couldn't run until his leg "healed". Hiccup had tried arguing he could run, it was just the occasional pain and the stumbling that he had to deal with, but that had somehow made Stoick more adamant to keep him away from the track field. In hindsight, he shouldn't have mentioned pain.

A hand quietly tapped him as he packed his stuff to leave. Hiccup turned to find Fishlegs shyly standing between desks. He was large, buff and tubby in equal measures. He had always been too big for himself. Fishlegs took a couple of steps back and gave Hiccup the nervous reminiscence of a smile. "Oh, hi, Hiccup!"

"Fishlegs?" Yes, of course it was Fishlegs, but Fishlegs didn't talk to him.

"Yes. Um. I...heard about your- your leg." Oh no.

"Oh no," Hiccup repeated aloud. "No no no."

"Nnno?" Fishleg frowned, still clearly worried and kind. Everything Snotlout and the twins lacked in brains and sympathy had obviously been granted to Fishlegs at birth, a trait Hiccup had always boasted about to his mother when she was still around and Hiccup younger. When Fishlegs was still around, bringing over his mom's potato pies and his sweet pit bull, Meatlug.

"You don't have to do this." Hiccup zipped his bag, giving Fishlegs his best "be warned" look.

"Do...what?"

"Talk to me. We chose our cliques," _you decided not to talk to me anymore_ , "we don't hang out anymore, you don't have to care about the peg leg." Fishlegs was so nice, it was _mean_. Hiccup wasn't letting the leg be the reason he and Fishlegs reconciled. If Fishlegs wanted to be his friend again, he had to want it.

"But-"

He was interrupted when Tuffnut careened into the classroom's open doorway and shouted, "Hey Fishlegs, Snot said his mom wants you to tutor him today, so you're coming with us. Oh hey, Legless." He ran out as quick as he came.

"You're busy," Hiccup slung the bag around his shoulder. "Take Meatlug with you. She and Hookfang get along, don't they?" He knew only because Meatlug got along with every dog, and Fishlegs could never keep himself from setting up play dates for her.

"Ye-yes, actually. Uh," Fishlegs stuttered. Hiccup patted his shoulder as he passed him and swiftly headed toward the door, feeling a little stupid, a little guilty, a little regretful. Fishlegs sounded confused. "See you? Later."

"See you tomorrow," Hiccup replied. It was only Tuesday. More than half the week lay ahead of them.

* * *

The football team practiced Mondays and Wednesdays. Track and field had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Games on Fridays, races on the weekends. Basketball, soccer, baseball and softball were left to the two other gym teachers. If there were any other sports clubs at Hooligan High, they didn't have a coach.

Gobber also taught health for one semester to ninth graders like Hiccup. Thankfully, that nightmare had already passed.

Against his father's wishes, Hiccup made his way to the football field. The track surrounded the practice field, which was why the two clubs couldn't hold practice the same day. Too many kids getting knocked outta the race, too many footballs hitting poor kids in the face, that sorta thing.

He wasn't going to run. He was going to offer moral support. And maybe convince Gobber to at least let him play water boy while he still practiced walking with the leg. Without the leg?

Maybe he wanted to watch Astrid run too. If he couldn't try to beat her school record (yet to be determined but sure to be state record), at the very least he could give her a towel and water bottle.

When Gobber saw him, his first words were, "What are you doin' outside?"

Which was just unfair. Was Hiccup not allowed to visit now? The doctor had recommended plenty of rest, but also physical therapy and practice with the prosthetic. Walking wasn't going to kill him.

Hiccup did not say any of this. Instead, he went with, "Thought you could use a minion."

He looked around Gobber's shoulder and caught sight of Astrid, a lone wolf, doing her stretches. He winced. Maybe comparing her to a wolf was a little...he'll stop. Some other day, maybe.

Gobber grabbed him by his shoulder, lifted him and turned him 180 degrees before putting him down rather gently. "Out. No, in. Get inside, go to your house right now. I'm not havin' Stoick chop my head off today. Already down a hand and a leg."

Hiccup turned back around to face him. "You know, this should be bringing us closer. We're peg leg buds now, Gobber. Why don't we spend more time together? Say, every Tuesday and Thursday? Show me the ropes."

"Stoick-"

"My dad won't fire or kill you. He's overreacting, like he always does! What happened to," Hiccup started to imitate Gobber's Scottish accent, "'I crawl'd myself ta the 'ospital, all ten miles with one leg!'" Gobber gave him an unyielding look. "Okay, I know that was an exaggeration." A downright lie, even. "But he _is_ overreacting. And if there is one person who can convince him he is overreacting, it's you."

Gobber stared at the tiny (he wasn't, everyone else was just so much bigger for some reason) teenager before him. He lay his giant hand on one shoulder. "You're his only child, Hiccup. After Valka...you're all that's left, lad. I can't tell a man to stop caring about his only family..."

Ouch.

As a person with emotions, Hiccup was a little wary to continue his argument. After all, what was another month of an overprotective father? Of course, it didn't really seem like Stoick was being any more caring than the usual. He was distant (like he always was) and stoic (well, yeah) and preoccupied with the school the same as any other principal would be. Any conversation between father and son was awkward as they had no common ground, and no effort had been made to remedy it. All that had changed really was that Hiccup was grounded "for his own good."

As a teenager already bitter about missing a leg, Hiccup was getting resentful. Another month was actually quite a long time. Why did Hiccup have to waste it inside? He couldn't go running in the woods anymore, he had no friends to call, no job to take up his time. All he had was his school work and the track team. He almost mattered in track. In the classroom, in his own room, he was only wasting space.

Hiccup had grown with some innate intent to prove he was worth something. He thinks it's a Haddock thing. Stoick liked to go on about his grand achievements, and how proud his father had been of him. Maybe it was because those conversations tended to last longest that Hiccup felt he should also give his father something to be proud of. Good grades, good records, fine carpentry skills if he did say so himself. It wasn't really working, but a boy could hope.

If Stoick was going to make himself an obstacle, Hiccup was willing to jump it.

It was too much to tell Gobber though, so Hiccup simply crossed his arms and gave his best glare.

"I'm terrified," Gobber said, exuding heavy sarcasm.

An exasperated sigh escaped Hiccup's lips, and his arms uncrossed to flail downward. "I'm already walking just fine."

"Good. So walk yourself home. I'll talk to your father later."

"This is so unfair! Can't I at leas-talk? You'll talk to him?" Hiccup bounced once in place.

"Yes, I'll talk. But I'm not disobeying him. He's still ma boss. And neither should you. Go home."

Hiccup had won! Kind of. Even as he let Gobber turn him around and push him off toward the gate, Hiccup leaned around him to look at the rest of the team. "You sure you don't need some help?"

"No." Poignant. Hiccup had still won though.

"Alright, alright, I won't push it." Hiccup lifted his hands in sign of surrender, then he jumped in place once more and grinned. "See you Thursday, Gobber." He started walking forward a little faster.

Gobber had already turned around, shaking his head humorously. "Maybe."

"Probably-" Hiccup yelled as he started to jog, but maybe Gobber hadn't heard. Hiccup had cut himself off silently, kneeling and grabbing his prosthetic as he felt the jaws of a red wolf clamp around the calf, just below the knee. Hiccup shook under the pain, feeling the wolf shake its head along in an attempt to tear it off.

It hadn't managed, but the bite, even without the infection, had been unsalvageable. There'd never been a chance for Hiccup to heal.

He was holding his breath. Hiccup sighed. Again and again. Breathing in through his nose and exhaling softly through the mouth. He took in the stillness. He stopped shaking and his leg was gone again. Was he grateful? Should he be? It really wasn't there anymore.

If his dad had seen that, Hiccup would surely be trapped in the house until his last year in college.

What if Gobber had seen? Quickly, Hiccup turned around to check, already fearing the worst. But Gobber was looking away, and had been for some time by the looks of it, too busy searching his duffel bag for the stopwatch. He lost it all the time. They'd tried to convince him to use a phone, to no avail.

Hiccup sighed in relief. Then a pair of eyes caught his attention. Astrid was staring at him.

His shoulders stiffened and he flushed. She saw that? Immediately, he stood up, maintaining the eye contact. She wasn't looking away, was she not afraid of anything? Usually one looked away when they accidentally made eye contact with a stranger, right? Was this not an accident then?

Eventually, she did lose interest in him, but she had obviously been interested. Interested? In what? In Hiccup cowering on the ground, holding his fake leg in imaginary pain?

He turned around and slapped his forehead. "Oh, that is embarrassing," he groaned. Of course she'd see him at his worst. Maybe she thought he was tying his shoes? Who knows how long he'd spent holding his leg. Probably a long time.

He hobbled his way home, feeling the point of his discussion with Gobber lose its fervor by the step. Not because the pain was coming back, it only seemed to spike up when he ran, but because his humiliation was killing his victory.

He was supposed to be taking the bus home, but obviously it had already left without him. With two legs, he could have made it in about twenty minutes (twelve if he jogged, but he usually had his bag), cutting through the woods to explore the half-made trails anew.

On one leg and a prosthetic, Hiccup followed the sidewalk home. He was there in less than forty minutes, which wasn't too bad. At least Stoick didn't get home until six.


	2. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner goes well.   
> Okay, no, no it doesn't.

Dinner was a _delicious_ bowl of eel stew with a heaping helping of cod and potatoes. Hiccup cringed away from the stew, smiling awkwardly in his father's direction and pretending to eat it whenever he happened to glance at him.

"So," Stoick said, putting down his mug of ginger ale. Sometimes, Hiccup wondered about his insistence on using mugs if he was going to drink the whole bottle anyway.

Now, he didn't wonder why he didn't just drink straight from the bottle. Instead, he held his breath and hoped.

"Yes, dad?"

"I heard," Hiccup's shoulders rose in anticipation, "that you missed your bus this afternoon?"

Oh, come on.

Hiccup nearly fell out of his chair. "Is _that_ really all Gobber told you?"

"He didn't have to tell me, I assumed it when he told me you wanted to rejoin track and field. We've talked about this, Hiccup!" Stoick stood up, assuming his lecturing stance.

Hiccup sighed and stared straight ahead dully, raising a hand to puppeteer Stoick's words as his father began to pace. He even mouthed along.

"When I was a boy, my father told me to bang my head against a rock. And I did it! I thought he was crazy, but I didn't question him. And you know what happened?"

"You got a headache."

"That rock split in two! I respect my father greatly for knowing when I was ready to face a challenge. It made me the man I am today. Why can't you respect my foresight?"

"Why can't I-" Hiccup sputtered, having heard this and many other stories half a million times. Except for that ending. "You've never told _me_ to hit my head against a rock!"

"Because I know you're not ready."

This was stupid.

"Because it's crazy! I'm not asking to lose another leg, I just want to join the club again!"

Stoick flinched at the mention of his leg. "Your accident was the result of you going out. If there was a safer way from here to your school without having to cross that...the woods, this wouldn't be as big an issue."

Hiccup rolled his eyes. "I did fine today."

"You did fine for 14 years before last month."

"Argh," he groaned, reaching out to choke something invisible. "It's not like I'm going to cut through the woods again. Trust me, I've been there. Done that." He lifted his peg leg.

The sight seemed to reignite something in Stoick. Hiccup just couldn't do anything right.

"My word is final."

"This is so one-sided."

"You're still grounded."

* * *

Hiccup was still muttering the words under his breath hours later, scouring Tumblr and ignoring an essay due Friday.

"You're still grounded," he mocked, scowling and liking a post about cats.

Ah, the duality of teenagers.

He looked at the window, toward the treeline.

The manor wasn't incredibly big, yet they still called it the manor. It wasn't so isolated that they would go unnoticed in case of a fire, but it was stand-offish.

Surrounding it were woods in all directions save for the road and sidewalk at the front. It was unlike the neighbors in that they technically didn't have neighbors.

All the other houses were in direct view of each other. The manor oversaw nothing but trees.

Hiccup stood up, closing his laptop and shoving it under the bed. He walked to the window and opened it, greeting the cold air with amicable resent. Sure, the cold sucked, but the breeze was nice.

He didn't have to listen to his dad. Even if he didn't have track, he could go out and...do stuff. At the very least relearn running. Maybe take up sketching.

Oh yeah, he could see himself now. Hiccup, the rebellious juvenile, sketching a pebble on the road.

He scoffed. If there was anything interesting out here, it was not in the streets. Something interesting would be in the…

_Woods._

Hiccup's gaze fell on the black shadows beneath the trees, tracing imaginary figures. The more he stared, the more the shadows shifted. He saw silhouettes of people and trolls and dragons...

Then a distinctly wolf-shaped shadow sprinted through his yard, to the other side of the house.

Hiccup panicked, pushing himself off the window sill and tripping over his bed, landing on the other side, eyes facing the ceiling. He panted for a moment, before shaking his head furiously. It wasn't a wolf (was it?). If it was (was it?), it wasn't going to get inside the manor (...could it?).

_Where did it go_?

The thought haunted him.

He scrambled off the floor, skating by his shoes and out the bedroom door, stomping his way downstairs. He hadn't seen the wolf re-enter the woods. Didn't mean it hadn't, just that Hiccup hadn't seen it.

Though he peeked through every window downstairs, Hiccup could not find sign of movement outside. He slowed down, breathing shallow, bracing himself in case the wolf—for some illogical reason—decided to jump out of nowhere to snarl at his chosen window.

He could see it so clearly, that red wolf. It's teeth were so sharp, on full display, eyes _mean_ , hunched and ready to jump-

"Hiccup?"

He screamed.

When he turned around, he saw his father in his striped pyjamas, holding the heavy axe they usually kept on a stand.

"Dad! Oh, dad! I was-" Hiccup held a hand against his heart, breathily laughing off the fact he'd just screamed at his own name. It wasn't funny, he was at his wit's end.

"What are you doing downstairs?"

"Oh, you know," Hiccup proposed, gingerly shaking his head as if it should be obvious. He ended the open statement with a shrug. No way was he telling his dad about the "spooky monster" outside, he wasn't a 5 year old.

Stoick focused on him with an icy stare. "You weren't sneaking out, were you? Not only did I strictly forbid it, it's a school night Hiccup!"

It was hard to tell if Hiccup was more angry or scared, but he was more than glad to step away from the fear. "I wasn't doing anything! Why do you always assume the worst?"

Stoick looked him over. Then he gestured.

"You just gestured to _all_ of me."

"Exactly." Great. "Now get back to bed." Stoick pointed the axe in the upstairs direction—showing off, yet again, how much stronger he was than his son. Hiccup followed it with a sigh.

As he closed his bedroom door, he heard his father say, "And don't let me catch you trying to sneak off again."

He had half a mind to slam the door.

He didn't. It clicked shut behind him.

He leaned on it gently, breathing deeply to calm himself. He frowned at the ground. He was so weak. Just thinking about that wolf had made him so desperate. He covered his face and slid to the ground. So stupid.

_Awooooooooooooo._

Hiccup's head shot up.

He walked to the window and shut it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent ages writing this chapter before scrapping everything and writing this instead. I was gonna skip dinner because I thought the last chapter was enough to end the day. Nah, apparently no. Makes me wish I'd written this along with the first chapter.
> 
> Is this too much, by the way? It might be overreacting (considering the movies). It feels like I didn't put enough into the running scene last chapter and too much in this one, bluh.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless.


End file.
